Cara Brookins

This is my house, and yes, it is also my story and my history. My kids and I built Inkwell Manor with our own hands. On hearing this, most people ask for clarification. "Yes," I say, "we set the foundation block, we framed it, we plumbed it. We even made our own countertops out of concrete." Then they look me straight in the eyes, pause for several beats, and ask, "Why?"

I have been making small things for as long as I can remember. Crafting things out of bits of string, wire, sticks, or clay. But after a divorce that left me emotionally and financially bruised and insecure, I needed to build something big. Really big.

My kids and I made an unconventional decision in order to rebuild our family. We needed a place to call home, a place where we would all feel safe.  So we built one.

We relied on YouTube videos and hardware store advice to frame windows, run pipes, and pour concrete. It didn't take long for us to realize we were in over our heads. We were an unusual but determined construction crew.

With our own hands we built the foundation between storms of ice and sleet.  Despite a tornado that blew by across the street, we raised the walls and the roof.  When it was 110 degrees, we stapled fiberglass insulation and climbed scaffolding until the heat overwhelmed us. Building our home was the most difficult thing we had ever done.  But it was also the most empowering event of our lives

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